


The call for blood

by SHADOWSQUILL



Category: The Leftovers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHADOWSQUILL/pseuds/SHADOWSQUILL
Summary: Matt Jamison would never have thought his life woul take such a turn...





	The call for blood

The battle was raging. It was devastating. He had no idea of what was going on. The moon was shining red and he had heard the call of a lonely brother in difficulty. His new instinct had forced him to run to the rescue of this lost soul. Many of others like him had answered the call and thrown themselves into a battle they knew nothing about. It was all in claws and fangs and blood flowed on the ground in such quantities that Mother Earth couldn’t drink it all. They were trudging and slipping and falling in the bloody mud they had created in that battle going nowhere, a battle without any sense. No one really knew why they were fighting, why they were dying. They were stamping on their fallen brothers. No one seemed to care about those bodies furiously taken to pieces. The call for blood was turning them into monsters.

The sun was showing up slowly when he extracted himself from this pile of muscles and soaked fur. The battle had left him pretty banged up. It was better not to stay around. He needed to find a place to hide and lick his wounds. It wouldn’t be an easy thing with so many beasts around. He dragged his body through the forest, slipping on the leaves and rocks. The Texan sun was high in the sky now and he could feel its beams sneak into his fur to burn his skin. The forest was desert but it was also unknown to him. He had no idea of where he was heading, where he would hide. He could meet anyone or anything and he wouldn’t even be able to fight if he was attacked, wouldn’t be able to run to safety if he was shot. He never came across a hunter but saw the damages they could cause, and it wasn’t pretty at all.

The worst was still to come though. It wasn’t his wounds, not the sun. It was that too familiar pain in his limbs, the feeling of his skin suddenly being too small for him, the feeling of it being stretched to the maximum on his bones, as if his whole skeleton was trying to get out of this corporal envelope. It wasn’t far from the truth though. Both the bones and the skin weren’t the right ones and he was slowly going back to his truest form. His left foreleg was the first one to break. His rush against time, against danger stopped dead: he lost his balance and rolled in the leaves and branches. He cried out in pain when his second foreleg cracked. Now he was immobilised. All his bones were breaking one by one and the pain was just too much to handle after the battle of the night. He lost it the minute his chest was completely crushed preventing him from breathing.

Reverend Matt Jamison had never thought his life would turn out to be so wrong. He had found his faith when he was still a young boy. It was the easy way to follow. His father was a brilliant reverend, everyone loved him. That was why Matt had wanted to walk in his steps. His faith had been tested again and again. First, there had been the disease. He had prayed so hard to survive to this but his prayers weren’t the best. He had prayed to get his parents attention back and the acute lymphatic leukaemia was the divine answer and punishment for his egoism. He had wondered if it was a reward or a punishment and now he just _knew_ that it was a punishment. He wasn’t the perfect little believer, a man whose faith could survive it all. That’s what he wanted people to think but he was a sinner. Just like every single one of them.

The second blow… He had thought it was the most terrible blow to his faith. The Departure. Or what was called the Departure. He refused to believe it was this miracle. He refused to believe that all those people could have been called back to God’s side when they were the worst sinners on Earth. He had been furious, had questioned his faith, had asked God himself why he had been left in this world that was destined to die. This was a double blow on him. The day the “Departure” happened, he was in a car with his wife. They collided with the car in front of them and she never really recovered from it until they moved to Jarden. She gave him a beautiful baby boy and left him shortly after because she couldn’t bear his behaviour anymore. He hadn’t tried to convince her to stay. It was too late. He had done too much harm.

What Mary didn’t know, what he hadn’t told her, was that his cancer was back. He had found out about it during his son’s first year. He had kept it secret. Things were already going so wrong between him and Mary, he hadn’t wanted to add more on her shoulders. So, he had let her go, knowing she would never come back, that he would never see his son ever again. He had already decided that he wouldn’t fight, that he would let the disease kill him. Well, until his friends convinced him that he shouldn’t. And then, Nora was gone and it was just him. It was just him and the constant sickness, and the fatigue. He stopped going to church, stopped preaching. He didn’t even go back to Mappleton. He just stayed in Jarden to finish his life the best he could. He still had his faith but he didn’t think that God would save him this time. For a believer, he had committed too many sins, doubted too many times. But the punishment wasn’t hard enough.

He was enjoying one of those sunny days toward the end of October when his whole life was turned upside down once again. He was walking through some fields when he came across a wolf. A huge greyish brown wolf. Wounded. His instincts had told him to help the beast that was too huge to be a normal wolf. But who knew with all the science experiments nowadays? It was in such pain, had been through such a fight that it rebelled against the hand helping him. It was just a scratch. Then, a bite. Matt had left the beast there. He had gone to the closest hospital and the next morning, he woke up with fever. His arm and hand were bandaged but there was no wound under them. Just thin white scars where the bite and scratch had been. Probably an hallucination caused by his fever. Probably just old wounds. Probably had lost the track of time, him. However, when the next full mon was around, he could feel that something was wrong and when he woke up naked in the middle of woods with the vague memory of an intense pain he definitely knew something was wrong with him.

It took him a few nights to understand what was happening, to gather the memories of the past few days. He refused to believe it because it was too unreal, something you could only read in bad books. And yet, it was the truth. He wasn’t just the man who met a beast, he had become the beast himself. That was his last curse. All the rest of his life he would have to go through that terrible pain, to turn into a beast thirsty for blood. He was paying the price for all the mistakes he had done. He ran away from Jarden one night, ran for miles until he collapsed. He lived in the woods, answered the call for blood – it was stronger than him, his wolf self was rushing toward it. He was throwing himself into battles, fighting until the exhaustion left him for dead, covered in leaves and branches, under the pouring rain washing the blood or under the sun drying it until it formed black scabs on his human pale skin. This night was just one among the others.

When he opened his eyes again, someone was watching him. He flinched in recoil. This face so closed to his was terrifying. There was one blind eye crossed by a long scar and an emerald-green one. Dark hair falling on a pale forehead. And that smell… a werewolf but not only. Something different, something powerful. Someone you definitely didn’t want as your enemy. The woman smiled and he was surprised not to detect any sign of hostility. However, she wasn’t alone. Other werewolves. A pack. She made a sign of hand to someone behind her and suddenly, Matt had a large blanket recovering his naked body. He sat up to be at the same height as the woman crouched before him. His sore body complained, reminding him of the battle he had been a part of in the night.

“Rough night?”

He looked at the woman in the eyes: she knew what had happened but she wanted to hear it from him. She was testing him. What if he failed the test? What would she do to him?

“You know the feeling,” he simply replied.

She did, but she could control herself now. It helped that she was a natural shapeshifter who could turn into a wolf whenever she wanted to, except when the moon was full. They were all slaves of the full moon. He was an accident, someone who got the gene by a simple bite like so many of the lost wolves around the world.

“I’ve seen the damages too.”

She wasn’t only speaking about him. She had gone on the battlefield. He could smell it – blood, fear, pain, death – on her, on the others remaining behind out of respect. They weren’t doing this for him, but for her. She was the chief, the leader. Quite impressive considering the fact she was so small compared to them. But once again, it could be her powerful aura.

“What’s your name?”

Purely rhetorical question: his name was in the newspapers ever since he went missing. Not that anyone was really looking for him anymore. They probably all assumed he hid to die from his cancer like some animal species were doing. But he was very well alive, trapped in another curse.

“Matt. Reverend Matt Jamison.”

“Nice to meet you, Reverend Jamison. I’m afraid not to have such a respectable title of my own. I’m Katlyn Itachi. President of the High Council of Werewolves here, in Texas.”

“You have a High Council?”

“We’re not the huge mess of wild beasts everyone think we are. I can teach you all of that. If you come with us.”

“If I… come where?”

“We created an academy to teach and train our young recruits and wolves like you. Lost, looking for help, for a community. We can give you the cares you need, the lessons to survive outside.”

“You’d throw me back out there?”

“No. Of course not. The choice to stay or go is yours.”

“What’s the price to pay?”

There were laughs in the group of werewolves behind Katlyn but she made them shut up by a simple raised hand. Once again, he was impressed by her authority. None of them was even thinking of disobeying. There wasn’t a sign of protestation. They were totally submitted to her.

“Nothing, Reverend. I don’t ask for anything in return.”

She held a hand out to him. He watched it, hesitated. What should he do? He couldn’t keep on wandering around the woods, alone. So, he took her hand and followed her.

x

Matt had been here for weeks. He was fully healed from the few wounds he had gotten in the fight. He had been for a long while but he was curious about what Katlyn had promised him. From what he had seen in the first days, she was the leader of a huge community. All werewolves were scattered across Texas. There were different packs but they were all referring to her for the biggest decisions. He was amazed that such a small woman could deal with thousands other beasts without a problem. There was a real hierarchy. The state of Texas ignored that behind the law and rules of the humans were hiding other rules. Humans were living unaware of the fact that the stuff they read in books and watched on telly were real. They certainly wouldn’t be ready for the truth. Matt himself still had a hard time believing that he was a part of this incredible community.

He was staying in one of Katlyn’s guest rooms. She had a huge property where she was living with her family, kids she had saved and guests like him, lost wolves waiting for a new home. Omegas, that’s the name she had given them. Omegas were lonely wolves that preferred living alone in their corner. They respected their own codes and were the main causes of those fights in the woods. There were Betas. Betas were all part of a pack and obeyed to an Alpha. Katlyn used to be a Beta. She had refused to be the Alpha of her own pack when she found out who she was, she preferred leaving that to her mentor and soulmate, Nicholas, but her real title was placing her a few ranks higher than an Alpha. She was the one making the rules and she was the first one to apply in her pack. A real example for her community.

She had personally taught him the most important things of the werewolves and told him the names of a few packs that would welcome him with great pleasure if he didn’t want to stay around and/or be an Omega. He didn’t know yet what he should do. The life of an Omega wasn’t for him. That’s the only thing he was sure of. Now he had to pick the place and people he would live with. He could stay here but it was too close to Jarden. He had to put as much distance as he could between him and the persons he knew. Not that he was gonna live long anyway. Werewolves had a wonderful ability of healing but that mostly applied to physical wounds and some poisons. The shapeshifting gene wasn’t curing cancer. Not yet. So he was still sick and dying. It was just slower than it should be. His body was fighting, he was taking his meds but there was no hope for him, no redemption possible.

“My secret place ain’t so secret anymore.”

Matt raised his head to look up at the woman coming to him. Katlyn obviously. He looked back down to his left waist. His fingers were unconsciously tracing the small tattoo drawn there. It wasn’t really a tattoo. More something like a seal to prevent him from changing every night. He would only change on full moons from now on. Pretty practical. Every ‘unpure’ wolf on this territory was wearing one of these seals. The advantages to be ruled by the Chosen One, a half wolf, half witch person.

“Not so secret. I’ve seen many of your Betas coming here.”

“They don’t when I am.”

“Too much respect.”

“Maybe.”

She stood beside him and looked at the horizon’s line. She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and remained silent for a couple minutes. Matt didn’t say anything either. They were both appreciative of the silence. It was better than a thousand words.

“I have the results of your blood test.”

“What does it say?”

Katlyn had very good doctors in her pack – people you wouldn’t think they were living another life, a supernatural life – so when she felt his cancer – apparently werewolves had that sense in them, or witches did, he couldn’t remember – she had convinced him to go through some tests. The results just came by and her silence was holding another meaning.

“They’re no good.”

It wasn’t a question because he just **_knew_** because that’s the answer he had been expecting all along. You couldn’t survive twice, not when you had done so many mistakes, not when you didn’t have the strength to fight it once again.

“No. They are not.”

“I never thought they would be.”

“The treatment’s not working. We could…”

“How long?”

“They said six months would be a miracle.”

Six months. It was more than enough to take care of his last business. Everything he owned would be for his son. A son who would never know him, or hear his voice ever again.

“I could, you know, speak to your wife.”

“No. I prefer not. Let her be happy.”

“What about you?”

“I have more or less six months to think about it.”

“I found this community. They’re all men and women of faith. I thought you might be interested before…”

“Before I was sentenced to death.”

Katlyn made a face but that was just what it was: a death sentence. He was gonna die and no one could stop that. He had to make the most of it and what that’s what he did. The Congregation – strange name for a pack – was willing to accept him whenever he would feel ready to come over. He took care of his last business, travelled until he couldn’t anymore and met with his new comrades for the end of his life. They welcomed him as a brother, as if he had always been a part of the pack. They treated like one of theirs and accompanied him until the end. When he exhaled his last breath, Matt realised how much the last few months had soothed his soul…

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of the band _Powerwolf_ and I really love their song _Where the wild wolves have gone_. The lyrics turned into the beginning of a story and since the members of the band are priests on daytime and werewolves at nighttime, I naturally picked Matt to be the tragic hero of this shot.


End file.
